


The beatings will continue until moral improves

by wolfinthethorns



Category: Jekyll and Hyde (TV)
Genre: F/M, PWP, Power Play, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 05:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6067585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfinthethorns/pseuds/wolfinthethorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP for our favourite horrible couple. Fedora teases Dance, spanking and good time ensue. Probably as close to fluff as you're going to get for these two weirdos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The beatings will continue until moral improves

“You know, that’s the third film we’ve been to see with that Boggart chap in it,” mused Dance, as they left the cinema arm in arm. Casual as his observation sounded, Fedora could see a mischievous little smirk forming on the corner of his mouth. “I’m starting to think you’ve got a thing for him, you know?” he added, just as casually as before, but giving her a furtive glimpse to gauge her reaction. Fedora gave a huff of laughter.  
“Coincidence,” she replied with a shrug, “He’s not a bad actor but… He’s a little young for my tastes.” She gave his hand an affectionate little squeeze.  
“Oh, well, that’s good to know…” he paused, and gave her the biggest sad puppy-dog eyes, “I’d hate to think I was being traded in for a newer model.”  
Fedora couldn’t help but laugh out loud at this. Could you describe a thousand year old eldritch evil as coquettish? Apparently so, and it a fucking delight.

Turning down an alleyway, towards the small apartment they had acquired near the Daily Truth Building, a wicked thought came to her. “If I were to take a lover,” she said, as teasingly casual as he had been before, “would you be jealous?”  
“Oh, of course, I couldn’t possibly share what’s mine,” he replied; his tone was serious, but she could see him trying to suppress a smile.  
“And would you fight him over me?”  
“Naturally.”  
“To the death?”  
“What other way is there to do it?”  
“And once you’d vanquished him…” she bit her lip, momentarily hesitant about pushing this game, “would you punish me for being naughty?”  
The speed at which Dance pushed her against the wall made her gasp with excitement. For a few achingly long seconds he simply held her there, his body pressed against hers, big hands on her waist, face buried her hair, hot breath on her neck, before he purred in her ear “Only if you are very, very good.”  
And oh if that wasn’t exactly what Fedora had wanted to hear; she took his face in her hands, pulling in for a kiss, but as their lips grazed he pulled away from her, tugging her away from the wall.  
“Homewards?” he said, cheerfully, but there was no doubt that was a command.

They walked in silence the rest of the way. Fedora could feel herself trembling with anticipation, and wondered if Dance could feel it too. From time to time she would sneak a glance at him, trying to read what was going on in that twisted mind of his, but all he gave away was the same mischievous smirk. She had no idea what he was planning, but oh god she was looking forward to finding out.

At the apartment, the ghoul that had been keeping guard took their hats, coats, and side-arms, and was summarily shooed off to lurk somewhere else by Dance. As he lazily made himself comfortable, kicking off shoes and socks, discarding his tie, and loosening his shirt-collar, she wondered for a sinking moment if earlier’s playful mood had passed. Out of habit, she made her way to the decanter on the sideboard to pour them both a drink. Turning back to the room, she jumped; Dance was unexpectedly very close in front of her, and she hadn’t heard him approach.  
“Now,” he drawled, taking the glasses of whisky from her, and replacing them on the sideboard, “I believe there was that little matter of you being _terribly_ cheeky to me back there,” he stroked her cheek with one long index finger, “and fond of you as I am, we can’t be having insubordination, now can we? Letting you get away with it would set all sorts of precedents.”  
With Dance barefoot, and Fedora still in her heels, the height difference was minimal, but he was still a commanding presence, centuries old arrogance brooked nothing but obedience. “No, sir,” she whispered; she wouldn’t have disobeyed if she could. Dance said nothing, but pressed a hand on her shoulder, indicating she should stay where she was. Taking a glass, he sauntered over to an armchair, and lounged into it.  
“Now,” he said, looking her up and down, “strip.”  
The plosive of the order felt like a whipcrack, a delicious sting of humiliation that made her breath hitch. Without taking her eyes off him, she began to slip off her jacket. Of the many things she adored about him, was the fact he never feigned disinterest with her; right now, desire burned in his dark eyes, and there was a pleased smile on his lips that said _mine mine mine_. In the glow visible through his undershirt, she could see his heart pulse. It beat almost as fast as hers, and this spurred her on as she unbuttoned her blouse. Letting it fall, she turned to undo her skirt, bending slightly at the waist as it dropped to give him a better view. Turning back, she couldn’t help but smile at the noticeable tent in his trousers now; meeting her gaze, he quirked an eyebrow wryly, _do go on_. Putting her foot up on an ottoman, she languidly drew her hand down the inside of her leg as she went to unbuckle her shoe, one, then the other. As she started to draw up her camisole, Dance held up a hand, stop, then beckoned her close. He didn’t rise, but drew her into stand between his legs, gazing up at her while caressing her thighs and buttocks, running his fingers underneath the straps of her garter belt. Without a word, he slipped off her knickers, and leant forward to tenderly kiss the dark thatch of curls now uncovered. His touch was electric, and Fedora moaned out loud at the kiss, tipping her hips towards him, hoping it would encourage him to keep going. But no, now Dance was on his feet, roughly pulling her arms behind her and holding them there firmly.  
“Not yet,” he growled, “bedroom. Now.”

Fedora allowed herself to be all but dragged across the hallway; whatever he planned to do with her was more than ok by her. Dance sat down on the edge of the bed, guiding her to lie face down across his lap, as she supported herself on her elbows.  
“Comfortable?” he asked, as he undid the back straps of her garter belt.  
All she could manage in reply was a gasped _mm-hmm_.  
“Don’t get too used to it,” and with that, he brought as sharp slap down on her exposed backside.  
Fedora gasped, more with surprise than anything; it had been a cupped-hand slap, made for noise and theatre more than pain. His cock, hard against the side of her belly, twitched at her noise, and he spanked her again, harder this time. Fedora cried out at the sensation: each blow seemed to tighten the knot of arousal that had been building deep in her belly since the alleyway, each spike of pain replaced with euphoria as it faded. She wriggled in his lap, trying to give him better access, spreading her legs with need. Slowly, slowly, Dance built up the speed and intensity of the blows, until pain and ecstasy were inseparable to her. And then, just as he seemed to getting into a rhythm, he stopped. For a moment, Fedora just lay there panting, bewildered, waiting for the next slap to fall, and nothing came. She whimpered in frustration, wiggled impatiently, and with a wicked little chuckle Dance brought his hand down vertically across her cunt.  
“ _Ohfuckyes_ ” she gasped, and then moaned breathily as he didn’t take his hand away, but slipped a finger inside her.  
“Language, my wanton little witch,” he laughed, bending down to kiss the small of her back, which had the effect of grinding his erection into her side. Despite his attempt to sound unruffled, his voice was rough with desire, his breathing fast as a cat’s.

And then he did it again, and again, slipping first one, then two fingers into her, and bloody hell if he did it again she was going to come. He must have known that too, because the next thing Fedora knew, Dance had hoisted her up by the waist, with a breathless order of “On your hands and knees”, had pulled his legs out from under her, and was tugging off his trousers and underpants. She didn’t dare move as he quickly positioned himself behind her, between her legs. She felt the head of his cock nudge at her soaking-wet entrance for a moment, his big, strong hands gripping her hips, before he asked “Ready?”, and thrust in as she nodded assent, pulling her back against him at the same time.

Gripping onto the bed-sheets for dear life as he took her hard, Fedora was close, so damn close to the edge of orgasm she could barely breathe. Looking behind her, she tried to find him, but what she could was the reflection in the mirror of the dresser, framing the vision of his lean, muscular thighs pumping against her reddened backside, and that was that. With a wail of “Oh god I love you”, she came, that knot of arousal suddenly releasing into throbbing spasms that shook her whole body. Dance moaned behind her, his fingers digging harder into her hips, as his thrusts became faster, the rhythm irregular, as with a growl he followed her over the edge.

As the tremors subsided, replaced with blissful heaviness, Dance leant forward to rest his head on Fedora’s back for a moment, then gently eased the pair of them onto their side, not wanting to pull out just yet.  
“I love you too”, he murmured, kissing her neck, and cupping her breast, “Feeling suitably chastised?”  
Fedora chuckled, which drew a slightly surprised little purr out of her lover. “Oh yes. Although I’m not sure how it’s supposed to convince me not to misbehave again…”  
“The beatings will continue until moral improves,” he muttered sleepily into her hair.  
The telephone rang shrilly from the other room.  
“That’ll be for you, then,” grumbled Fedora, resignedly.  
Dance curled around her more tightly, “Nope. Taking over the world can wait until tomorrow.”  
The phone kept ringing.  
“No it can’t,” she said firmly, prodding him in the arm, “Come on, Tenebrae’s finest, glory awaits.”  
“I suppose you’re right, Lord Trash isn’t going to wake himself up, he’s worse than me at mornings” he sighed, easing himself away from her. There was an unpleasant cold against her back, and between her legs, as he pulled himself free. Dance wrapped the blankets around her, as he found his underpants.  
“Tell me if you need me,” murmured Fedora, dozily.  
Dance knelt down next to her for a minute before he left the room, stroking her hair, “I always need you,” he smiled, and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, “Cup of tea while I’m up?”  
“Lovely.”


End file.
